


Liquor and Lemon Slices

by ChloeAngel



Category: Free!
Genre: AU where Makoto and Haruka meet at a bar, Aged-Up Character(s), Idiots in Love, M/M, fluff and romance ensue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeAngel/pseuds/ChloeAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru let out a sigh of relief as he stared back down at the wood grains of the counter, unsure what to do with himself. He hadn’t noticed the stranger’s glance beside him, nor his finger-wave to the bartender and their whispered exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr. Bartender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of MakoHaru drabble lying around, but this is the first one I've completed.. Please enjoy the fluff and have a good read! <3

Honestly he had no clue why he came here. It wasn’t his scene in the slightest. The air smelled foul, polluted by secondhand smoke and the fragrance of whiskey. It was a diluted scent that hit a newbie’s nasal cavity like a punch to the face. Its particles would stuff up one's throat and provoke a cough or two only to leave behind a nagging stinging sensation. Hell, it even had the gall to linger after clients' departures. He made a face and brought up a palm to protect his nose.

Intoxicated patrons filled the floor to dance and grind against one another in hopes of romance or distraction. A number of the less tipsy spilled onto the outskirts of the dance floor to better chat with drinks in hand, free of mindless bodies rubbing against their own. The intensity of the sweat, hormones, and horrid distorted live music were only thickened by the confines of four walls, and it hit the young man all at once after entering the location. It made his stomach crawl and he scrunched his nose in response. God, how Haruka hated bars.

Under normal circumstances he would have retreated before reaching a mere block of this shabby establishment, despite the protests of a perky blond who would surely cling at his arms, pouting, but tonight was different. There was no Nagisa to drag him here, nor no social obligation to serve as an excuse for his friends to get him out of the house for some fun. No, today Haru simply had enough of his jerk of a boss and snobby coworkers, and craved a drink to wash away the thoughts for at least one night. His mind was with so many thoughts that, after soaking for a fruitless three hours, even the water couldn’t seem to fix it. The realization made him want to tug his hair out. The water had never failed to fix him before. It was frightening, the bath’s downfall tonight, so Haruka resorted to what he knew many adults went to when in need of some sedation of the thoughts. He needed a drink, and fast. Something heavy, preferably: a concoction that could carry him away from the stress, stares, and loneliness. He wanted something to wash away the bitterness slowly building in his bones, and if a drink was the answer, then he’d gladly chug ten.

He left his apartment in a rush, sloppily putting on a cardigan and a pair of pants over his jammers. He hadn’t cared to lock the door behind him. He had nothing of value in there, anyway. His apartment door closed with a decisive sound. It would surely disturb his crabby neighbors, but Haru couldn’t find himself to care, and with that he was off.

When he reached the street of the bar, his mind finally caught up with his body. His pace slowed down as he questioned exactly what he was doing. Haruka didn’t care for alcohol. He rarely ever drank, the obligatory swigs never satisfying when compared to a simple cool glass of water. He didn’t understand the hype, really, and hangovers sounded horrible. He thought the whole thing was stupid. Getting wasted seemed like more trouble than the relief would be worth, and while being coerced to have a glass of wine on the holidays was something he could tolerate, crowds were not. Crowds meant people, and people meant judgment, and judgment meant expectations, which all made way for anxiety. Groups made him feel trapped when Haruka only ever wanted to be free; free to breath, free to be, free to do whatever made him happy, no matter how obscure his passions. Yet here he was strolling to his death wish, a building composed of everything he hated. Still, his footsteps didn't stop, albeit a bit faltered, and the next thing he knew his shaky hands were swinging open a bulky wooden door decorated with chips and scratches. He had crossed the threshold.

Immediately upon entering he had the urge to turn right back around, his sight partially fogged by the immediate drifting clouds of nicotine, but it would seem that there was a force at work. Haruka couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stand in place. There was this new voice that had emerged in his head just then. It was uninvited but nonetheless welcomed. It was telling him to stay, to give this a chance, that he would regret it if he didn’t. And just like that, against his natural inclination to retreat back into solitude, into safer corridors, Haru let the heavy door close behind him with finality, breathless.

He must have been standing there in a stupor longer than appropriate, because once his eyes had adjusted and his mind had cleared enough to come back to reality, back in control of his own body, a bartender busy wiping a thick glass dry was staring at him. Haru had enough mind to let the feeling of awkwardness wash over him as he shifted under the elderly man’s gaze. Literally feeling like a fish out of water, Haru allowed his vision to roam over his surroundings before looking back at the man. He winced. The other’s dark eyes were still on him.

Catching his uneasiness, the man cracked a warm smile and pointedly looked at an open stool in front of his station before back at Haru. Haruka gulped by habit at that. He was never good at dealing with openly kind people. It made him feel like a walking boulder in comparison, hard and cold.

With his eyes forced downcast, Haruka slyly walked over to the assigned seat and laid down the keys and wallet he had been clutching onto the whole way here. He glanced up from under his bangs at the old bartender, the man’s face gracefully aged with deep wrinkles. He looked wise and familiar, and he regarded Haru knowingly, as if he were his own kin. His face held grey eyebrows, a handsome mustache, milky brown eyes, and an obviously frequently used smile. Dealing with introverted fellows like Haru must not have been new. “What can I get ya’, son?” the senior invited, returning now with a new glass to clean.

Haru regarded him warily. Despite the man’s gentle nature, Nanase felt out of place. He knew nothing about drinks. What was dainty? What was strong? Skip the drinks, actually. Would it be weird to ask for a cup of water? “Uh…”

The other’s smile deepened. “Don’t worry fella’. I know what you need,” and with that the man turned his back to go about making his order. Haru let out a sigh of relief as he stared back down at the wood grains of the counter, unsure what to do with himself. He hadn’t noticed the stranger’s glance beside him, nor his finger-wave to the bartender and their whispered exchange.

Haru was busy drumming his fingers against the glossed countertop when the bartender returned and slid a drink in front of those tapping fingers. In the tall glass was yellow-tinted ice cubes floating in a sea of liquid that resembled, to Haru, apple juice or iced tea. Its dark brown depths were an upwards gradient to a clearer, lighter shade, and floating in the ice were slices of lemon whose real power in the flavor department was strongly doubted by Haru. Nevertheless, Haru was no drink-connoisseur, and so with a nod of appreciation he went to reach for his wallet. “How much?”

“No charge.”

Haru blinked before looking back up at him incredulously. “But-”

The bartender grinned somewhat covertly, brown irises glinting. “As I said, no charge, son.” The elder leaned closer to a stupefied Haru, notable amusement in his voice (but still no less kind) as he explained further, “That young man aside of you has already taken care of your bill. I would thank him properly if I were you.”

Haru’s eyes widened comically at the suggestion, a strange sound escaping his throat instead of words. Mutely the bartender drew back in favor of attending to a couple at the other end of the counter, a knowing smile still in place.

A fed-up Haru groaned inwardly as he fidgeted in his seat. He subconsciously dragged a thumb up and down his glass as his mind went on a frenzy. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This was not good, not good at all. This was not what he wanted. He came here to avoid human interaction, not get thrown into it. But there was no way he could up and leave either, not when a stranger just paid for his drink, lord knowing how expensive it could have been. Yes, to his misfortune Haru knew he would have to thank the stranger eventually. It would be rude not to, and although Haru was a quiet person and could be quite brusque in conversation, the Nanase was in no way rude. He knew his demeanor could come off as icy to the faint of heart, but it wasn’t purposeful, and it sure as hell didn’t stop this guy from getting near him.

He stared at the clear streaks his thumb had trailed on the glass and chewed his bottom lip. What kind of a guy goes around paying for people, anyway? What was his angle? …was he trying to pick on him? Was Haru that obviously out of his comfort zone and now a prey for bar rough-housing? Did he seem the type for a one-night stand? Internally he released another, deeper groan. Oh no.

The stranger, apparently having noticed his neighbor’s sudden slump, cleared his throat. Haru tensed at the sound, his shoulders locking in defense, as he forced himself to slowly, finally, look at the man to his right. His admittedly sweaty palm gripped a bit tighter on the glass then.

Smiling at him warmly with the faintest of streaks of blush on his tanned skin was a young man around his age, presumably. His hair was a marvelous shade of brown that Haru was far too eager to recreate with his paints later, and his eyes were a captivating green that emanated warmth like a goddamn campfire. Haru’s structure was still as tense as ever with his shoulders raised, spine locked, and eyes appearing frantic, but he could’ve sworn his insides melted in that precise moment, and that his stomach was now nothing more than heavy organ-goo mingling with his bowels. Haru, though, was resolute that this man, undoubtedly a charmer looking for prey, must be a dangerous flirt in search for hook-up, and so somewhat indignantly he looked on at the man in hard silence, glare intact. If the other had deemed Haru weak enough to pull off such a stunt, he had another thing coming.

Seeing Haru's strong change of posture, the stranger’s eyes washed with apprehension, his smile faltering. Unknown to Haru, the stranger truly hadn’t meant to cause annoyance. He could only hope now that he hadn’t offended the black-haired in some way. With that sentiment in mind the taller man ducked his head in apology. “I’m sorry if my gesture upset you. I just... w-what I mean is..” Nervously he glanced up at the other male, blue eyes still harsh on his own. “I-It's just that you looked so uneasy, I thought…"

Haru stared on as the guest changed tactics and released an easy sigh. "Ah, well, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” he concluded, a confident smile returning as he straightened his posture and regarded Haru with a friendly aura. “Have you tired it yet? The drink, I mean. I assumed you didn’t drink much, considering how you looked lost while talking to the bartender, so I thought that you might like this one. It’s one of my favorites, see?” He raised his glass to show his own drink, a replicate of Haru’s.

Haru glanced between their identical drinks before settling his sight on the upbeat man questioningly. ‘Boy,’ Haru corrected himself, because despite the man’s built physique and extra inches in the height area, Haruka couldn’t help but compare him to an eager child; a charming little boy. Haru was confused.

“It’s kind of sweet, because of the honey in it,” he continued, those cursed green eyes going soft again. “There’s tea in there too, so you can hardly taste the alcohol. I think it tastes better that way, when you’re not being tethered down by the power of liquor. It’s more refreshing, don’t you think?”

The blue-eyed blinked and looked to the side. “I wouldn’t know," he replied in monotone. "I don’t drink.”

“Eh, really? Not even a little? I mean, I figured earlier that you must not be a big fan, but I didn’t think you would come here for your first time.” He raised his hand to cover an escaping chuckle. “This place can be a bit intimidating after all.”

Haru hummed weakly, opting to switch his gaze from where it numbly slipped over to the people dancing back over to the chatty man next to him. The latter opened his eyes in time to catch Haru’s gaze. His dopey grin deepened in affect, and Haru stubbornly shot his eyes back to his drink as he took a rather confident swig.

The alcohol content was there, most definitely, but his partner was right. The flavors of honey and chamomile tea coated his tongue so that he didn’t make out much of what he remembered liquor to taste like, but what he could recognize as the culprit tasted different itself. It was mild but present, though he had no clue how the drink managed that. Whatever resided in this mixture resulted in a sweet chill that went down his throat and swirled in the stomach he thought he had lost just so, and he welcomed the flavor, useless slices of lemon included.

The green-eyed let out a muffled chuckle at Haru’s impressed face. “Mr. Akiyama, the bartender here, made it for me one of the first few times I came here. He noticed that I didn’t care for heavy drinks and whipped this up for me. I think he called it ‘The Herbaliser’? I’m not sure of its real name since it’s not on the menu. And since he usually has it prepared for me by the time I get to the counter, I never really bothered to ask. I think it’s normally served hot, but it has a nice feel to it when its cold like this, wouldn’t you say?”

“Mm,” Haru answered, but his mind was somewhere else. It was busy marveling things like how the other came to be so familiar with the bartender, or how strange it was that his voice wouldn’t cease and yet it somehow managed to register as more soothing than annoying to Haru’s picky ears. The biggest question for Haru, though, was why the guy was still talking. He had barely uttered a word and yet this young man beside him continued to speak so openly and freely that Haru didn’t think he needed to put much input himself. He reasoned that maybe, possibly, the man understood he was one of few words and such was why he was offering so many of his own. That was fine with Haruka, of course. If this stranger was willing to fill the silence with that voice of his, Haru decided he didn’t mind. He much preferred listening anyway.

When he regarded the other again he found him smiling comfortably, eyes closed and beaming. With his broad shoulders bunched up and his hands in his lap like that, Haru found him to resemble a giant puppy. The stoic one of the pair sighed in his head at the silliness of it all. Honestly, what kind of human being was he dealing with here?

“Makoto.”

“..What?”

Bright eyes were on him once again. “Tachibana Makoto. I haven’t introduced myself correctly, so.. Makoto. That’s my name.” He tilted his head to the side, voice soft and careful. “May I ask yours?”  
Haruka looked at him as if thoroughly scandalized and quickly turned his face away. Makoto’s gentle laugh evaded his ears. Haru could imagine the amused expression behind it. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to answer,” he assured. “Just thought I’d ask.”

When Haruka only responded with his sideways gaze, Makoto allowed himself to turn back to the counter and take a sip of his drink, an innocent, happy smile still on his lips. Something similar to a pout conquered Haru’s.

Minutes went by where neither said anything. It wasn’t awkward, Haru decided, as he listened to the music and watched the people dance. When his drink emptied, Haru pushed it away and chanced a glance at the quiet space beside him. Unwillingly he checked if the seat was still occupied. It was, and as much as Haruka was defiant to admit it, a part of him was relieved that the man named Makoto did not decide to escape Haruka’s presence, but rather stick around and offer a smile when he caught Haru’s gaze.

"It’s got a rustic feel to it, I think," Makoto said, implying the bar with his eyes. Haruka also allowed his vision to rest on the busy floor. That was one way to describe it, Haru thought, if dark and musty could somehow be found endearing.

“I like it here,” Makoto stated, and when Haruka glanced at the other he found that his eyes were distant. “My pals from the fire station and I usually come as a group, but it’s nice to come alone sometimes. Being around people too much can be tiring, and even though this place can be packed and muggy, it’s still relaxing in its own way. I don’t ever feel like I’m being surrounded here, exactly. It’s not- ...etto, I don’t know how to describe it, really..” Haruka noticed Makoto’s thoughtful face and waited patiently for him to find the words, surprised to witness Tachibana struggle for words in the first place. Whatever effort his company was putting into explaining resulted in something close to a scowl on his face. Haru felt that it didn’t suit this Makoto fellow, and foolishly he commanded it to go away via telepathy.

“I.. I feel like the people here are opportunities. Opportunities for friendship and laughter and fun stories. They’re not hurdles like the ones I’d like to escape from, the ones that are always ready to leave some dark cloud around others. They’re the ones that will do anything to get ahead and make you feel small. I like people, I really do, but sometimes it can get pretty ridiculous, the things that others will do to win.. Even I catch myself needing a breather. Those are the nights I dedicate some time to silence, to peace, but even when I want to be alone, I find that I still don’t really like _feeling_ alone, so a place like this where I can be by myself but not actually alone is.. comforting?" He gave a weak, distant smile. "Yeah, that must be it.. 'comfort'."

Weary eyelids closed over the cloudiness that had overtook green irises and replaced them with freshness for when he looked back at Haru. “Ah, I guess that doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, it does,” Haru thinks. “It’s complex, but it makes sense. You want to be alone, but not lonely. I understand, Makoto. I know how it feels. It is not strange, Makoto. You are not strange.” But he says none of that and instead takes a drink from his replaced glass, a refill of the same recipe.

Makoto smiles understandably and goes back to watching the moving patrons. “Is there a reason you came here?” When Haruka raised an eyebrow rather than voice anything, Makoto tried to clarify. “I was just curious, I suppose, why you thought it was the solution for whatever was on your mind to come here, out of all places. It doesn’t seem like your preferred atmosphere, so I was curious if there was a reason. ..Is there?”

“Not really.” The disappointed slump of Makoto’s shoulders and the lowering of his gaze motivated Haru to extrapolate, though carefully. He wasn’t used to chit-chatting about personal matters, but he felt that he owed the guy this much, and so he trudged forward, “..My friends have taken me here before a few times. I don’t like to go out much. It’s too much effort to deal with people all the time, but they don’t like it when I stay in the tub, so when they have the chance they like to drag me out of the house.”

Makoto stared in confusion. “The tub?”

“Mm. I like the water.”

“Oh.. Okay, then.” Though weary and yes, a tad bit concerned, Makoto was still very much eager to hear anything and everything of what the mystery of a man had to say, and so he smiled encouragingly. “Go on.”

Haruka nodded. He cleared his throat, refusing to meet the other’s gaze until he finished, lest he lose his small dose of conviction, and continued, “Where I work, there’s a lot of competition. A lot of fresh meat trying to climb up the ranks, and a boss flailing this falsely baited hook of promotions and titles for them to take a bite at. They never fail to go for that dumb hook, no matter how stupid they look flailing around in the water, no matter the ripples they create. No one is thinking about how it might disturb the whole of the ocean or their fellow fish of the pod. They're only concerned about themselves. It’s tiring to be on guard all the time, expecting to be dropped and stranded on land when the next genius swims in." Haruka focused on the counter. “It's a dog-eat-dog world, and I don't like that.” His normally stoic face had slipped into what Makoto inferred to be a frustrated one, a slight frown and furrowed brows enunciating the change of face. Makoto frowned with him. “The culinary world is always searching for the next prodigy. The newcomers are constantly in motion, scrambling to create some new unthinkable flavor combination and outshine the accomplishment of the predecessors they’ve built upon. It’s disorienting. It’s tiresome. That’s why I came here.”

Makoto’s face lit up in astonishment. “Ah, you’re a chef?”

“Yeah, at SabaRamba,” he mumbled, his cheek resting on his hand.

“Wow, really!” Haru jumped at the sudden volume and glanced around them. When he found no one paying them any mind, he sighed and looked back to Makoto in mute annoyance. Makoto adjusted himself with a blush. “Oh, sorry. I was just really impressed, is all. I’ve never been there, since it's so expensive and out of the way, but I’ve heard remarkable things about it.” A quick sound came out of Makoto's mouth that Haru could only identify as a giggle -- a  _giggle_ of all things. Makoto was looking at him serenely when he added, “I shouldn’t be surprised. I can't exactly fathom it or explain it, but I have this peculiar feeling that you're an amazing person... That it’s only fitting that’d you’d do something as amazing as work at SabaRamba, like you’re capable of nothing short of spectacular. Like you’re nothing short of special..” he trailed off.

Haruka blinked wildly, his breath struck right out of him. “…Excuse me?”  
If his tone came out as accusing, Makoto didn’t seem to mind, because when he responded with, “Nothing at all,” his smile only widened. Haruka felt helpless, paralyzed under the other's raw gaze. Some force in the universe must have took pity on him right then and there, because Makoto’s phone rang and the moment was over just as quickly. Haruka breathed out in relief and turned back to his drink. He took a furious gulp to help cool down his cheeks while Makoto was busy fishing out his phone, an apology coming out his lips as he checked the caller ID and picked up. Haruka listened in.

“Hello?” _Loud mumbles from the other line. An amused grin from Makoto._ “Sure, that sounds great. I’ll be there bright and early.” _More mumbling. A huff of a laugh from Tachibana._ “I’ll do my best. See you then.” _A last quick mumble._  End of call.

Makoto slid close his phone and stood up to stretch. Piecing together that Makoto was preparing to depart, Haruka switched to staring in the opposite direction to hide his minimal disappointment. Never mind the slight lurch of his still-organ-goo at said conclusion, thought Haruka. The alcohol was to blame for that.

“Nanase.” Makoto paused his stretching to focus on the speaker. “..My name is Nanase Haruka. You can address me as Haru, if you’d like,” he finished in a mumble. Makoto was frozen dumbfounded.

Haruka thought he might have broken Makoto, but then he released a sweet-sounding laugh that forced Haruka to hide his face for the umpteenth time that night. Eventually Makoto was left catching his breath, his eyes dancing with mirth and glued on who he could finally identify as “Haru”. He mentally rolled the name along his tongue. _Haruka.._ No, 'Haru-chan,' he decided, because such a cute, whimsical name could only be reserved for a person as cute and whimsical as the man in front of him, the picture of beauty and prominence.

“Haruka?” Haru glared. Makoto smiled teasingly.

“Haru-chan, then?” He chuckled when he was curly told to drop the ‘-chan’.

“Okay then, Haru. I should take my leave. The friend that called invited me to meet up for some basketball tomorrow morning, and I’ll need as much sleep as I can get to keep up with him. It was really nice talking to you, Haru. I, um, hope you have a good night,” he finished awkwardly.

Haruka hummed his agreement and waved back his farewell when Makoto stopped at the door before slipping onto the streets. The bartender was near to wink at Haruka when they next made eye contact, and Haru finally let out a long-suppressed blush as he took his last sips of the lukewarm drink.

And if he went back the night after the next, it most definitely was _not_ because of a man with messy brown hair and unbelievably green eyes. No, not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // I may have some ideas about where to take this if you guys like it enough. Let me know your thoughts below. I'm also welcoming any beta readers that'd like to proof-read/discuss ideas for this series. Everything's in the air right now, but I would enjoy hearing the variety of opinions that comes from multiple beta's. Don't hesitate to message me if you have an appetite for MakoHaru and free time to kill :)


	2. Passing Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [EggDropSoup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EggDropSoup/pseuds/EggDropSoup) for looking over this chapter! I'm eternally grateful (◡‿◡✿)

"Last shot. Give me all you’ve got." Under blue skies and a blazing sun two Tokyo natives were dueling it out on a local basketball court.

"This is your warning, oh delicate prince," smirked a broad-shouldered man dribbling the ball. The sheets of sweat on his arms reflected the shifting of muscles underneath. "I won’t be going easy on you this time."

A snake-like smile and a teasing wink was the other’s reply. "Don’t expect a kiss if you do, big fella."

The larger of the pair grinned levelly, and then without warning took off. Already winded from their morning of play, the cheeky instigator was easily rushed past by his opponent. Quickly he recovered and sprung to life in time to block the other's path. He tossed himself with a leap against the taller of the pair, effectively sending the ball flying out of the loose grip poised to shoot. The pursuer sprinted to claim hold of the freed ball and dribbled a distance away from his opponent. All the while he traveled this way and that to frustrate his playmate with his light and unpredictable movement.

Victory was sealed when, as foreseen by the conniving ball-stealer, the other groaned in annoyance at the tactic, now vexed. He watched as the admittedly intimidating male proceeded into a sprint to close in on him and dish back what he had been served. Purple eyes glinted impishly as he swerved to escape an offensive swipe. Milliseconds later he had ran three stretched steps, positioned himself to shoot, and took a wild shot from center court.

The ball teetered along the rim achingly slow, but both parties already knew who had won this round. Such was why, when the ball lazily slid through the net, a defeated Makoto only sighed at the whoops of his boastful friend. He walked over to where their towels sat on a bench and wiped at his face and neck as his friend continued to ramble.

"Ha! How do you like that, Tachibana? A landslide of a victory featuring a sad-looking dog with 4 points and the reigning champ, the ultimate heartthrob of Tokyo, with 7. Ah, the day in the life of a Shigino: basketball and serenading Lady Victory.” He sent a suggestive smirk at his friend as he quipped, “You know, with a body like yours, you would think she’d be on your side more often."

Makoto chucked an accompanying towel at Kisumi’s face. It effectively shut his partner up as he went to work wiping away at his own sweaty features and ignoring Kisumi’s indignant murmurs. A smile crept onto his face when Kisumi struggled to smooth out clumps of his damp pink hair whilst wiping at his neck coated in perspiration. “Not everyone can keep up with sports so avidly after college, Kisumi. I’m bound to lose one here and there, I’ll admit it, but don’t get too cocky.” He finished his efforts of rubbing dry his biceps with his try of a dangerous smile that was strangely effective on his normally sweet face. “I’ll get my time in the spotlight someday, and then I’ll rub it in that pristine face of yours, and you’ll owe me a sushi dinner, dessert included.”

Delighted at the subliminal invitation, Kisumi chuckled and moved to join his old university friend who had wandered to sit against the chain link fence. “I think I can manage that, but only if you buy ice cream after our next game.” Makoto paused the chugging of his water to smile his gratitude, ever the lover of food and sweets. Chocolate was the ultimate form of his own euphoria, and a night of sushi indulgence didn’t sound too bad.

The two satisfied yet tuckered-out men stayed silent, too placated by the breeze rolling over their heated skin to pester the other. Makoto pulled at the fabric clinging to his chest to let the air wash through. A sigh of bliss escaped his salty lips at the contrast of heated skin and cool wind. Kisumi was panting quietly beside him as he attended to his own recovery, busy fanning himself with his towel. By now Makoto was occupied with listening to the sounds surrounding them. Children in the park could be heard shouting in glee and singing heavy choruses of laughter, and the constant dribbling of the ball by the remaining players on the court soothed Makoto.

Together these forces rendered him completely at ease. Such was why he startled when his mind wandered to something completely unrelated, something he felt was out of bounds for a stranger like him. It ruminated, just for a second, how the man from the bar a night ago must be spending his own Saturday morning, how his eyes might look when facing sunrays rather than the foggy air of thinned smoke in a dim bar.

Makoto found himself a fretful, blushing mess when he opened his eyes. He also found that he was being openly stared down by a pretty pink-haired boy. Embarrassed for having been caught daydreaming, Makoto immediately looked away, but the effort for nonchalance was futile. It was too late, and Makoto knew it. _Kisumi_ knew it.

“When?”

“W-What?”

“The guy you’re so obviously woo-ing over,” Kisumi chastised. “When did you meet him, and why haven’t I heard about it?”

Makoto gulped. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he defended. “The heat must be getting to your head.”

Kisumi earned a grimace when he squinted his eyes and pressed his face closer to Makoto’s. “You’re a horrible liar, Tachibana,” he interceded, unimpressed. “The worst I’ve seen, actually. Ah, or is it, rather, you’re more like an open book?” Kisumi hummed lightly in thought. Makoto watched the gears in his head turn warily.

“Well, whatever the case, your little act won’t get past me,” he concluded. His eyes were alight with renewed vigor as he pressed on, “You’ve been caught, now spill. Who is he? How’d it happen?” A sudden gasp, and then a smug smirk brimmed with suggestion, “Did _it_ happen?”

To tell the truth, he never thought of trying anything with Nanase in the first place. The very idea of using the remarkable character that was Haruka, or anyone, really, made him feel quite queasy and had his stomach dropping. Still, the proposal of he and Haruka becoming something intimate left him blushing furiously and waving his hands in front of him in denial. It wasn’t a displeasing image, he and this beautiful man walking hand in hand by an ocean’s shoreline, but it was no less embarrassing than an inquiry from his mother.

“N-Nothing happened! It’s not like that!”

Kisumi huffed in disappointment. “Aww, Mako, so boring. No romantic kiss under the moonlight? No swooping some lucky man off his feet and taking him home?” Makoto nearly choked at the suggestion. In return Kisumi decided to indulge him and relented his prodding. He plopped down flat onto his back with a smile, his head cushioned by his folded arms. “I’m only teasing, you big oaf, so calm down. I know you’re not that type of guy, and that’s alright, it really is! I just… I don’t want you to miss out on all the fun in life…” he shared cautiously, gaze purposefully elsewhere. “It’d be nice to see you live it up a little, you know?”

Eased by Kisumi’s words of concern, Makoto stopped his fretting and looked down at his friend. He understood why Kisumi might worry. Makoto was never one to party and date like Kisumi, nor was his schedule lined with excitement and heated encounters like their friends from college.

Flings, risks, and other racy things just never appealed to him. Why roam dark streets, clubs, or hotel rooms for short-lived thrills and satisfaction when he could be better placated with a stroll through a park whilst watching over his siblings? Why be concerned with who-did-who when there were cats to feed and lives to save? He truly loved his role of ‘big brother’ growing up, so he figured that to serve and care for others must be what he was born for. Once discovered he took this purpose seriously and lived it out happily. If others found such a fulfilling life mundane, then that wasn’t his concern.

Despite his jeering Kisumi understood Makoto nearly as well as his own family and respected his subdued lifestyle. Makoto knew this, and so as grateful as ever he smiled down warmly at his pouting friend. “I know that you don’t want me to miss out on anything in life, Kisumi, and I thank you for your concern, but I promise that I’m happy right where I am. Besides,” he trailed off, eyes on the sky and earning a glance from Kisumi, “I have a wonderful feeling that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

\----__________-----__________-----__________----

 

An odd sort of peace had settled upon Haruka these past two days. It started on the evening of his bar encounter. When he arrived home that night he was gifted the most pleasant and refreshing round of sleep he must have had in a while. His eyes closed off the real world in favor of a tranquil dream coated in hazy, lulling, warm colors normally found in autumn. When he awoke the morning after, his head felt clear, his bones rejuvenated, and his heart maybe the slightest bit lighter. The best part was that, after getting up to make his usual morning tea, that sense of calm did not elude him-- even when he thought later in the afternoon about his day's schedule and the impending stressful hours of culinary employment. Hours later when he sighed a sigh of resignation and prepared himself for work, dressing into his white garments, packing his lunch, and slipping on his shoes before exiting his apartment, that imperceptible cloud of calm still held steady by his side.

No smiles graced his lips that day as he prepared dish after lavish dish in the restaurant kitchen, nor was there any special hop to his step that could tip off his coworkers who were always poised to attack, but there was an undeniable brightness in Haruka that day, and the afflicted young man thought he knew why.

When he slipped into another succession of sweet dreams that second night, his stomach full and content from self-made dinner, his limbs loose and relaxed from a relatively short but effective soak in the tub, Haruka noted the familiar green that stroked the landscapes of his dreams and held onto the color for when he awoke the next morning.

It was now day two since he had met Tachibana Makoto in a shady bar, and the morning sun was penetrating through his flimsy blue curtains to announce its glorious arrival. Haruka rubbed at his eyes before slowly sitting up and stretching in a seated position. Blinking the last of his sleep off, he found that he felt calm and energized at the same time. It was a rather odd combination, he decided. When he looked at the clock on his nightstand he found that it was still early morning. He had off from work today, which meant, essentially, a day of freedom. It meant that he could do as he pleased all day with no schedule to pester him, and he was absolutely elated.

Excitement built up in his system as he began going through his mental list of favorite down-time activities. He could restock on some paints, Haru thought jovially. He could go to the market to buy some customary ingredients and his usual load of mackerel from that kind fisherman who never questioned him, never called him quirky, never eyed him funny. Once his paints were in order and his fridge stocked, he would cook his favorite soup stuffed with fish, meats, and vegetables with white rice on the side, and maybe... just maybe.. he could go to that bar again, and see those beautiful eyes...

Haruka shook his head harshly. No. No, he was being stupid. Why should he have any reason to believe that Makoto would be there waiting for him? The man surely had a life of his own. Why should he assume that the other man would _want_ to see him again, anyway? Haruka was being presumptuous to think that he was taking up space in the other's mind the same way Makoto was occupying his. And to think that of all the hours in a day, of all the places and people in Japan, he’d be lucky enough to encounter that kind presence again was irrational.

No, the chances of seeing the stranger again were slim to none, and this smack of reality admittedly weighed down his heart. Whether it be because of one-sided interest or the harsh reality of their practically nonexistent chances of a second meeting, a wave of depressing thoughts bombarded Haruka. They replaced his recent bundle of motivation with an unfavorable mood as his mind unconsciously generated more gloomy thoughts. His upper half felt rather heavy now, spirits dampened for reasons not entirely lost to him, and so he allowed his body to lower itself back into his cushy mattress and cocooned himself in his bed’s navy sheets.

It was a stupid thought that he could see Tachibana again out of the blue, and so soon to boot. It was wishful thinking, and wishful thinking got people nowhere in the real world, so why then did he still have this stubborn inkling of hope?

‘Foolish,’ Haruka admonished, and then his mind eased into the silence of fretful slumber on a Sunday afternoon.

\----__________-----__________-----__________----

 

Despite his protests that they’d stink up the place and should return to his apartment to freshen up and feast on leftovers, Kisumi had managed to drag him to a noodle shop after their morning of practice. He persisted that no one would mind their possible smell with the ladies too distracted by a body like Makoto’s and the men too jealous to say anything. Makoto could only sigh in burning embarrassment and yield to Kisumi’s antics.

It turned out that Kisumi was right. Their late lunch took place with no complaints from the other customers present, and the females did indeed seem to generally appreciate the sight of the two toned boys despite their possible smell. “Pheromones,” winked Kisumi at one point, causing Makoto’s cheeks to heat up amusingly. He quickly stuffed his mouth with more noodles, ignoring Kisumi’s laughter and the looks sent their way.

They spent the rest of their time together traveling to a popular shopping district, as suggested by the trendy Kisumi. They entered any and every store that peaked either of their interests. They visited a sports shop first, Makoto trying on jammers for a future rehabilitation appointment with a pro swimmer at work. Kisumi wandered from corner to corner the whole time, thoroughly enjoying the varying displays of sports equipment and asking Makoto how he’d look in a tennis uniform, or maybe a soccer one, or maybe baseball? Both had left with a bag in hand and smiles on their faces as they pressed on in their shopping spree. A sweets shop was their next stop by Makoto’s request.

When they shuffled onto the train that would take them back to the outskirts of Tokyo, Makoto and Kisumi had to squeeze against irritated riders to protect their many bags. Besides the jammers, Makoto had bought an embarrassingly large amount of chocolate produced in different forms (some of which were questionable if you asked Kisumi), clothing for exercise and leisure, and some smart-looking pieces that Kisumi mocked but Makoto enjoyed nonetheless. He also bought a few new toys for his feline at home, whom he loved to spoil.

The ride was filled with chatter and plans for future get-togethers up until Kisumi got out at his stop a few before Makoto’s own. Makoto waved at Kisumi through the window until the other’s form faded from sight, allowing Makoto to finally take a breather. Being with Kisumi was always a good time, no doubt about it, but their adventures succeeded in tiring him out every time. “Maybe I’m getting old,” he mused to himself. A tiny giggle slipped out despite his best efforts.

It was evening when Makoto arrived home, and he was beyond tired. He dropped his shopping bags by the doorway and rubbed his lower back. After heating up some curry gifted from a neighbor he gladly planted his butt on the couch. He turned on the television, officially settled down for the evening, but soon enough the documentary covering whale endangerment faded to background noise. His mind had wandered to a more captivating subject. He ate on without purpose with a curious, child-like expression, too absorbed by his thoughts of Haruka. He hadn’t had the chance to daydream since being caught by Kisumi that morning, but now he was alone, sleepy, and oh-so-very peaceful. It was only appropriate for the subdued image of Haru to flicker across his brain.

Maybe it was his hopeless inner-romantic talking, but Makoto was sure that Haru was a treasure. There was so much more to learn about the other man, but Makoto discovered some aspects of Haru that night that he would dare call true traits. For example, Makoto believed that the stranger was generally reserved, intellectual, and utterly captivating. Through their silence and Haruka’s confession of his workplace woes, Makoto felt that Haru’s personality must be deep and expansive, like the ocean reflected in his eyes. For once in his life, Makoto wasn’t afraid to tread the waters. In fact he wanted to learn more, go in deeper, for with Haru by his side he felt that he’d be safe from the monsters lurking in the dark waters, or from anything, actually.

His coworkers at the fire station liked to tease how Makoto had no trouble facing fires but would lose his nerves at the smallest and most peculiar things, such as crafting a meal of beans for them, or needing all eyes to be diverted when he changed out of his uniform.

Yes, Makoto was afraid of a lot of things, he admitted. It would show whenever he was alone in his apartment and the night would become too dark, the winds too strong, and the pelting of rain too loud. Makoto would curl in on himself and pray for the turbulence to settle down -- for the sun to come out and the neighborhood to come back to life and assure him that some horrible disaster hadn’t occurred and he was indeed not left alone in this world. Horrible images of his family’s home falling to nature’s forces would invade his brain, completely unwelcome but in total control as images of his mother, father, and the twins with so much life left to live were swept away.

But not too deep into his fretting would Asami make Makoto peek out from behind his arms when she’d mew and rub against his calves, her way of providing her owner comfort and requesting attention at the same time. Each time Makoto would allow himself a tiny smile and scoop her into his lap, stroking her orange fur as she fell asleep and left Makoto to mourn for the animals stranded outside in the storm. Always he would send a prayer for their safety before dozing off himself, or at least trying to.

Now, in the quiet of the night in his unshared apartment, he wondered if Haruka feared anything. Was Haruka afraid of storms also, or would he deem Makoto childish for it? Haruka mentioned that he liked to soak in the tub, so maybe he enjoyed the rain? Did he cherish the sounds of gentle rain hitting his window panes? Were storms soothing to Haruka? Would he be bothered by Makoto’s cowardice?

Makoto smiled, the last spoonful of spicy curry dissolving in his mouth. No, he was sure that Haruka wouldn’t mind his sometimes quivering fortitude. Maybe it was out of place for a stranger like him to theorize so, but Makoto firmly believed that Haru was kind at heart and slow to judge. He was probably a warm individual regularly perceived wrongly. He thought so because for that brief time they spent together, Makoto didn’t feel any negativity radiating from him. None that was deliberate, at least. It was hard to explain. Maybe Haru simply preferred to save his energy for composing tiny smiles once in a while and entrusted the rest of his feelings to be fathomed by company. Makoto hoped to see that smile in the flesh one day, and maybe even be the cause of it, if he were lucky enough.

It was hard to resist the allure of his bed when he exited the shower that night, and thus was why he didn’t try. He flopped onto his stomach, sunk into his fluffed comforter, and instantly fell asleep with a serene smile stuck to his face.

The next day for Makoto was scheduled with both his occupations. An alarm rung for early morning to ensure his arrival for a morning appointment with a runner whose training in preparation for a 5k resulted in a stress fracture. As a physical therapist with a focus in sports medicine and rehabilitation, Makoto dealt with a wide variety of athletes and a world of injuries. Growing up Makoto was uncertain as to what career to pursue, and if you asked him now at age 25 he still wouldn’t be so sure, but after long discussions with his parents and school counselors Makoto felt rather confident that physical therapy would suit him well.

He liked to help people, and sports seemed to follow him as he grew up. The more he dove deeper into the material his classes loaded onto him, the more interested he grew of this sports world and the more he admired the athletes who trained vigorously. He yearned to help them get back on the field to continue towards their dreams after injury. It was extremely hard work that meant advanced classes, in-depth research of both the physical and mental issues, and their solutions, when it came to rehabilitation. But thanks to plenty of coffee balanced with little sleep, Makoto came out of it generally happy.

What made all the work fulfilling was when he finally landed his first internship and had helped an ex-athlete walk again after a car accident that promised the end of his football career. When he had first met the patient, the man strained to even stand, his muscles sore and weak from surgery and lack of use, but after months of care, appointments, and exercises the patient could manage to carry himself just fine on crunches, and gave his sincere thanks to Makoto and his sensei for their help and support.

Makoto remembered the day that man left to re-start his life very well. In fact he remembered all his patients, every step of their progress, all the tears, grunts, and ultimate smiles they shared under his care. It didn’t take too long for Tachibana Makoto to become a fan favorite in the firm he worked for, and since then his list of patients had been growing steadily. Each time he saw the proud, triumphant faces of his patients when they made progress towards recovery, Makoto grew more confident that he made the right choice when he was a stressed high school student desperate for a path in life.

Work that day left him with enough time after to stop at a small restaurant before arriving at the fire station. He was welcomed with hollers and pats on the back on his way to their locker room. Despite their volume Makoto felt right at home. It was a mix of full-time, part-time, and volunteer firemen that occupied the floors of this firehouse. Makoto was one of those volunteers.

After grabbing a water bottle from their kitchen Makoto entered the garage where the fire trucks were stationed and looked around to decide where to wander to. Nearby were some staff inspecting, repairing, and cleaning the dormant vehicles. On the other side of the garage he saw new trainees being instructed, and not too far away from that were some of his mates lounging about. Makoto decided to join those chatting men, not particularly in the mood to be an example for the trainees or inspect the trucks. The group greeted him with wide grins and open arms, and Makoto fell right into place.

His shift at the fire station went smoothly with only one call he and a few partners had to report to. It was a small kitchen fire with no real damage to anything besides the stove. The owners of the home had already extinguished the fire by the time the firemen arrived, so there was little to do but inspect the scenario, document it, ensure that it was safe for the family to remain in the home and offer any assistance they may require. There was over an hour left of his shift when they returned to the station, and there was talk among his mates about going to a bar in celebration of a slow day.

“Makoto!” called a coworker. He slung an arm around Makoto's broad shoulders when he settled with them. “How about a drink at Akiyama-san’s after work?”

Makoto’s heart skipped a beat. He had been hoping to go again, but he also had hoped to do so without company. “Mr. Akiyama’s?” he questioned, palms becoming sweaty. “Not Fushu’s, the one closest to us?”

“Oh Tachibana, we’re celebrating!” chimed in another male. “That old man makes the best drinks for us! We don’t mind the travel, right boys?”

Sounds of agreement flowed from all around him. Makoto had to give a small smile. These guys may be voracious, but they always made their brothers feel included. He was grateful for that.

“He’s right, Mako,” cut in his friend Katsuo. “Everyone has a soft spot for Akiyama-san here. Plus, taking the train to Iwatobi saves us the hassle of driving home.”

“I suppose that’s true…” If they were carpooling, Makoto undoubtedly would be the only sober man left, purposeful on his part, and would have the task of taking some rather unruly drunk firefighters home.

…yeah, Mr. Akiyama’s sounded good right now. “But what you’re really excited about is the chance to see Haru, isn’t it?” his mind teased. Makoto had to shake the thought away. It would be the greatest night of his life, second to the night he had met Haru, if he saw Haru again. His heart was beyond hopeful, his chest filling with excitement and the chanting of ‘go, go, go!’ But his brain was rather doubtful. Still, he hoped for the best. Who knew when an opportunity like this would present itself again? He wouldn’t waste it.

“Alright, I’m in.”

The circle of men whooped in celebration. The man with his grip on Makoto squeezed tighter. “Then it’s decided! Fill your stomachs, boys. We’re going drinking.”

\----__________-----__________-----__________----

 

Haruka awoke from his nap two hours later. When his eyes slipped open his mind felt a little better. The cursed thoughts that brought him down still swam around, but they lost power in the time span of his nap and were currently outshone by the hope that originally gave his morning such a beautiful start. After some debating, still snuggled in his sheets, Haruka decided that there was no use in sulking around over his slim chances of seeing Makoto again. Doing so would only make those chances more impossible by wasting time, which killed opportunity. That man Makoto gifted Haru some happiness without his knowing, and he’d be damned if he wasted it moping around his home all day. If the gods would have it that they didn’t run into each other today, then he’d try again tomorrow, and all his days after. He didn’t have to go searching, necessarily, but he’d have to put in the effort of keeping his eyes and ears open for the sight of Tachibana or the sing-song of his voice if he hoped to find him. Besides that, well, all he could do was believe that other party was doing the same.

As it would happen, Haru did manage to do everything he hoped to that day and then some. It was with a subdued smile that he thanked the cashier and left the art store with fresh tubes of paint and new brushes that late afternoon and made his way to the outdoor food market. It was quite a walk, but only because the market was situated near Iwatobi’s fishing ports whereas the art shop was planted in the trendier outskirts of his town. It resulted in a walk that’d take thirty minutes or so by foot, but with Haruka’s easy pace it’d wind up nearly forty, not that he minded. The weather was being especially amiable today, and Haruka liked to tune in to the whispers of the ocean as he neared the water. It was tempting to take off his shoes and let his feet sink into the sand as the waves lapped at his ankles. To strip completely and forgo his plans in favor of embracing the calmness of the ocean it offered today was also tempting, but Haruka was on a mission. It was with a sigh and frown that he separated from his love and continued on towards the path that would lead him to the stalls selling produce and fish.

Familiar faces greeted Haru. To each person he bobbed his head in reply as he evaluated their stocks. He had a loose shopping list in mind as he wandered from stall to stall, half-listening to their specials of the day. Haru recognized many of these faces by now, but there were two elderly vendors in particular that he was fairly aquatinted with after his many visits. Haru spoke a few words to them out of politeness. Even after two years he still found it peculiar that they bothered to remember his life story and continuously inquire about his wellbeing. He found it quite queer actually, given that they must see people much more interesting than himself every day. Still, he listened aptly whenever they updated him on their own lives and offered his condolences or congratulations when appropriate. Soon he waved the woman goodbye so that he could visit the fishing section. There he selected his load of fresh salmon and thrice that of mackerel. His arms strained from the weight of his purchases all the way home, but all Haru could think about was how delicious that mackerel will taste in the broth tonight.

Haruka was rather proud of himself as he placed the last plate down and looked over his work. The dark wood of his small table was littered with extravagant dishes and savory smells. His stomach gave a rumble before he sat down on his knees, said his grace, and ate away. While Haru was by no means a hermit, he would admit that he was rather introverted, so today’s shopping trip was a win for Haru. It was a win because even though it would have been easier to just lie in bed defeated when those damned thoughts visited him, Haru overcame them. For once he didn’t let the darkness in his mind overtake the sparse light usually stored for obligated social gatherings, and he got to enjoy the day because of it. He got to enjoy today because of a man named Makoto. He would have to work on being the reason for his own joy and motivation, but for now Haru was using the energy he felt Makoto lent him. He smiled sincerely over the chopsticks in his mouth. Yes, today was a good day, and he’d learn to make the rest of his days good ones also, or at least try to.

When his numerous plates were near empty, surprising Haruka with his own appetite, Haru rose to take all the dishes to the sink and put away what little of the meal was left. His heart rate had increased by the time he was grabbing his keys and wallet, but he swallowed down the nervousness. He gave his reflection in the hall mirror a stern nod and exited his apartment.

The journey to the bar was jarringly similar to the first in that he felt that he had no control over his body while it made headway to its destination. The bar had appeared in front of him before he knew it, its thick distorted windows emanating a yellow from inside that distinguished it from the dark of the night scenery. People hung about outside, leaning against the walls while chatting and having a smoke. A couple had exited the bar and gave Haruka a curious look, most likely because he had been standing there staring for who knew how long. Haru blinked self-consciously, a slight blush creeping onto the apples of his cheeks, but he made no motion to move. His hands were shaking, his keys in no way helping his nerves as they broadcasted every twitch. The building had somehow turned into the most intimidating thing in the world, and he had no clue how he managed to step inside the first time.

He allowed himself some comfort by acknowledging that the reason for his nervousness was different this time. That last time he had wandered here without purpose. He had no idea why he was there or what pushed him forward. He had gotten off easy thanks to Mr. Akiyama’s perception of Haru’s confusion. The elder had eased him through his being there until Makoto showcased his existence.

Tonight was different. He had a reason for being here this time, and that reason was Makoto. He wanted to see Makoto. But he was still a man aware of social protocol and knew that he would be no less awkward and uncomfortable every time he’d visit from now on to sit around like a fool, waiting, hoping, until he’d have to give up for the night and head home deflated, no doubt pitied by that bartender.

“Stop that, Haruka. Stop thinking so pessimistically,” a voice scolded. “This is the first step. You need to take the first step. It’d be useless to go home now anyway, so just breathe. Breathe and step inside.” Haru exhaled to find a breath that he didn’t know he was holding leave him. He felt a tiny bit better then. That inner voice was right. He had to keep moving forward.

He gripped onto the metallic bolted door handle. After he had opened the door and opened his eyes, he decided that maybe being hopeful wasn’t as stupid as he used to believe, because sitting at the counter was Makoto, laughing and smiling with the men beside him. Haruka squeezed his hold on the handle. Entering patrons brushed past him as he stood there dumbly, staring and once again completely lost and unsure of what to do with himself.

Maybe Haruka was letting a drift in, because something provoked Mr. Akiyama in the midst of all the busyness to glance at the door. Haruka took in a bated breath as the elder man looked at him searchingly for a prolonged minute. Haru was ready to bolt because this was too much, he wasn’t ready, what was he thinking, what was he _doing_ \--, but then the bartender’s face softened and his eyes gleamed with understanding the same way they had that first time they met. Haruka decided that it was okay, _he_ was okay, because Mr. Akiyama remembered, and he would help.

Haruka had an ally. He was not alone.

The old man casually walked over to Makoto, his wrinkled hands busy wiping dry a glass and giving Haruka the sense of déjà vu. He said something to which Makoto smiled, probably just a greeting to get his attention, but then more silent words were spoken and Makoto looked curiously to where Haru was still standing at the door.

Both were mute, eyes locked onto the other’s. Makoto’s were wide with shaking irises. Whether that was in shock, fear, or happiness Haru didn’t know, but he thought that they probably resembled his own as he stared back in hard silence.

Haruka couldn’t tell how long had past but the quiet between them was becoming nerve-wracking. He needed to say something, _anything_ , because this had to be real. Makoto _had_ to remember. Haru couldn’t be the only one..

“Makoto,” he breathed, the syllables barely a whisper passing through his lips. Anxiety spilled out of every pore as he watched Makoto intently, whose eyes widened even further before relaxing completely. Makoto broke into the fullest of smiles, and when a sweet, airy laugh reached him, Haru allowed himself the same feeling of relief.

“Haru.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this installation! I felt that it was important to write about how they'd normally spend their days, so please excuse the intermission vibe, but now they've reconnected and their story can begin :)


	3. Leaping Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Lena](http://hoezawa.tumblr.com/) and [Nicole](http://eggdropsoupao3.tumblr.com/) for beta reading (ɔ˘ ³(ˆ‿ˆc) This is the longest chapter so far! This chapter also feels a bit different to me, so I hope it's still okay! oAo

When Mr. Akiyama came to Makoto whilst wearing a genial smile, Makoto suspected nothing out of the ordinary. He and the bartender were quite comfortable with each other. They chitchatted often, sharing from the most casual of comments to the deepest reflections of life. Built over the short years, there was an easy, almost remedial vibe between the young man and the senior. Grateful of the presence of Mr. Akiyama and his firehouse family sitting beside him, Makoto was flooded with a sense of warmth. He had no idea what he did in his past life to deserve these blessed bonds, but he was grateful nonetheless.

The world felt so calm right then, so normal, that when Mr. Akiyama prompted him to look at the door, Makoto felt as if a rug was pulled from beneath his feet. The sensation rendered him breathless, leaving him able to do nothing more than stare at the person by the entrance. His heart was thrashing wildly against his chest. The pounding of the muscle against his ribs was all he could hear, all he could register, until the movement of the other person’s lips drew him back to the real world.

“Makoto,”they said.

Indeed, this was the real world, and Makoto could finally breathe. The afflicted man took in a much needed breath before letting the relief make its way out his body. A joyous, hushed laugh reached the other side. For two days, Haruka had so skillfully and prosperously ruled over his susceptible mind. He had been effortlessly enchanted by a man who Makoto believed would never give him a second thought after their parting. After all, Makoto was no one to glance at when compared to someone like Nanase, who was quite frankly the possible manifestation of the divine on earth. 

Being the hopeless romantic that he was told he was, Makoto felt that he was surely in over his head whenever he wished to pass the other man on a busy street, only for both of them to pause in recognition, or when he hoped to catch the blues of the other’s eyes on a crowded train like in the dramas. Yes, such fantastic stories of reunion were practically fables, and yet… Haru was here. The same Haruka that had graced his mind for days now stood some measly feet away, real as real could be, right where they had first met. Causing an excited stir, Makoto’s delighted spirit bounced about inside his belly. The last passing thought Makoto could discern was that maybe having faith wasn’t such a silly thing after all. 

“Haru,” he said. It was his try at testing reality. If the Haru in front of him was some sort of wicked manifestation or trick of the eye, then the mirage would stay silent. It would dissipate along with the answers Makoto was desperate for from the stranger he knew to be called Haruka. He held his breath.

“Makoto,” the other replied, cautious but subtly empowered by Makoto’s response.

Makoto laughed once again, unbelieving of his luck. “Haru.” His giddiness showed in a smile that refused to leave his face. In silence he reflected, “Haruka, thank you for this chance. If you would allow me, I won’t let you go this time.” 

Renewed vigor came to Makoto, and he swiveled his body to better face Haruka. He waved at Haruka enthusiastically in invitation to come over and sit at the empty stool beside him. Faint beads of sweat slipped down Haru’s neck as he gulped the anxiousness away and delivered back a nod. Haruka crossed the distance between them, but his legs felt unnaturally heavy on his way there. It made it rather difficult to navigate like a normal human being. Haruka had to fight down a blush of angry embarrassment when he took his seat beside Makoto. 

Haru could practically feel the warm gaze Makoto held on him. His eyes flitted towards his company to test the theory. His intuition was correct. Makoto was looking at him with a level of satisfaction and gratefulness that Haruka couldn't remember ever being directed at him before. Makoto’s head tilted the slightest bit to the right, his brown hair bobbing slightly with the new angle, when he shared shamelessly, “Haru, you know, I’m very glad to see you again. It might sound silly, and forgive me if you find it odd, but… I was hoping that the last time we spoke wouldn’t be the last.” 

Makoto looked at him in a deciphering, almost calculating way before he allowed himself to continue. Haruka wondered what might have caused him to shy away from sharing. Even if it was a barely noticeable pause, Haruka recognized its eerie presence and it gave reason for concern. “Don’t shy away now, Makoto,” Haru thought encouragingly. “Only let it begin. Don’t stop this from growing. I want this to grow.”

As the gods would have it, Makoto did choose to continue, and Haruka focused on his upcoming words. “I was disappointed when I went home the night we met because I realized when it was too late that I had nothing more than your name as a means of connection. I hoped since then that maybe one day we would meet again, because I couldn’t not remember you, truthfully, but a part of me felt childish for thinking that. I felt guilty for putting expectations on you, even if they were unspoken. I also hoped that you would remember me, that I wouldn’t be a stranger again if we met after, but that too was something I felt to be unfair of me to ask from you. 

Haru watched the far-away face that was Makoto’s at the moment. It was faded with a pitiful aura. Haru wanted to wipe it away.

“To have both of those wishes fulfilled, let alone in the same day and in this same place,” Makoto finished. “Well, I’m just very, very grateful. I feel blessed.”

Haru was unaware if Makoto was cognizant of what he had just spoken aloud. Haruka’s face felt like it was burning at being on the receiving end of a sentimental script like that. The fact that his own thoughts agreed with Makoto’s only made the heat on his face all the more unbearable.

Were they both foolish for believing in and wanting the same thing as strangers? Surely they were, and crazy to boot. They were foolish hearts that hoped for the same foolish thing, but if it led to the creation of something as beautiful as their mutual longing, Haruka mused, then maybe being foolish wasn’t too bad of a thing. 

Haruka’s contemplating ended when Makoto spoke, “I also apologize for putting such a heavy level of expectation on you without your knowledge, Haru-san. To hear all of that from someone you barely know must concern you. And for it to come out of nowhere, you must think I’m crazy...” A sad smile graced Makoto’s lips. That smile, along with the trace of shame and fear in Makoto’s gaze, made Haru’s stomach lurch.

Haru didn’t want Makoto to regret what he said. For Makoto to deny what he felt during those days was to also deny Haru’s feelings. That couldn’t happen. Haru wouldn’t allow it. Automatically Haruka panicked. He cut in before the other could say more, “N-No!”

The volume of his cracked voice surprised the both of them. Haru’s gaze fell to the counter as Makoto continued to blink at him. “I-I also thought of Makoto, so don’t apologize,” he supplied in a mumble. His shoulders rose in effort to become invisible, but his face betrayed his plans when it progressed into a muted red hue. Into the following silence Makoto’s own expression lit up, and then faded back into his standard sunny aura.

“I’m glad. Thank you, Haru.” The other nodded his head at the soothing reply. He was still trying to comprehend how Makoto managed to pull that outburst from him. To feel not in control of himself, even for a second, was obscenely unsettling to Haruka. It made him feel out of his element. Like on the first night, Haruka doubted if he belonged in this bar. He was forced to remember now what made him so uncomfortable the first time he came here. The stimuli hit him hard. The ever present nicotine clouds and signs of alcohol became suffocating at a rapid rate. The air, the smells, the music, and the people were all overwhelming. Suddenly he was drowning. The young man was sinking into the black depths of his social anxiety in a frozen panic. Life seemed out of his control. He was powerless.

Haru was pulled back to the surface by the distasteful sound of jumbled, gruff laughter. It was loud enough to distinguish itself from all the background noise, which was a feat. Forced back to fight the rough waves of real life, Haru grimaced as the nearby disruption grew in obnoxiousness. He felt sick. This was not okay. _He_ was not ok. He needed to go. He needed to escape the people and the sounds. _Escape, escape, escape…_

A line of sweat rolled down Makoto’s face as he smiled warily at his loosening company. He knew they would lose their composure eventually. Even a built, healthy man was assured to lose to Mr. Booze. Makoto knew that, and he was prepared for the situation as the designated sober one, but it would have been optimal if Haru wasn’t there to witness them succumb to the alcohol. 

When they erupted into a louder fit of laughter, rough nudges, and glass-clanking, Makoto chanced a worried glance at Haruka. His heart sunk when he found his company looking pathetically uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed almost sickly. Haruka’s body was leaning far to the right in an effort to put distance between himself and the sound. Makoto frowned deeply at the sight. Haru was trying his best, he could tell, to tolerate the rowdy atmosphere conjured by the substantially intoxicated firemen. The fact that Haruka was fighting his primal desire to flee, probably for the sake of keeping Makoto’s company, initially warmed his heart, but the guilt that swept through him for not thinking to prevent this situation quickly surpassed it. He was the most horrible person in the world.

“Hold on,” Makoto spoke loudly to Haru. He was going to fix this. He fished out his cellphone and dialed a series of numbers rapidly, his fingers used to the pattern. He put the phone flush to one ear and blocked the other with a finger to better hear the other line. Makoto gave Haru a tiny, apologetic smile as the phone continued to ring in his ears. Haru watched him curiously. Makoto furrowed his eyebrows sympathetically when he found Haru’s face to be especially pale and sweaty. 

The other line finally picked up and Makoto gave a sigh of relief. “Saito-san, hello! I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I have a favor to ask. You see, we’re at Akiyama-san’s and—” Another round of manly hoorah erupted. Both Makoto and Haruka cringed. 

“That’s how it is, you see,” Makoto shared wistfully. “I promised to watch over them tonight and make sure they get back to the train safely, but something has come up. Would you mind too terribly to be the surrogate tonight, Saito-san?” Haruka watched as Makoto looked forward distractedly.

The caller replied something agreeable into his ear and he smiled brightly. “Thank you!” Haru huffed a weak laugh when Makoto automatically made a small bow to the invisible man on the other side of the line. “Yes, yes, it’s the usual five of them. Thank you so much, Saito-san! Please let me know when I can return the favor. Mm, you too! Have a good night.”

Happily, Makoto snapped his phone shut and turned to Haru. He bristled at the attention aimed at him so personally. A part of him questioned when he would get used to the effects Makoto had on him. For his health’s sake, he hoped soon. 

Makoto stood up and gave Haru a look that said to stay put and not worry. Haru grew slightly nervous when Makoto walked away from him to grab one of the rowdy men’s shoulders and lean closer to say something. Makoto was smiling, though he looked slightly apologetic to the man he was speaking to. The man who probably mirrored their age, Haru estimated, smiled back understandably and said something in reply as Makoto released his light grip and stood straight. The group shouted goodbyes at Makoto when he waved his departure and walked back to a confused Haruka. “Let’s go outside. It’s a bit too much in here, yeah?” His calming tone was very much appreciated by Haru. He nodded silently. The ends of his mouth went upwards ever so slightly as he stood up and followed Makoto out the establishment. 

The fresh air was welcomed by the two, though it was especially praised by the recovering Haruka. Simultaneously they breathed in a greedy lungful and relished the freshness it left in their systems. In his mind, Haruka gave a message of thanks to Makoto for getting him out in one piece. Again, Makoto managed to save him with no words needed. He had no idea when or how Makoto cultivated the skill of people-reading, but it was a skill Haruka both envied and cherished. 

Haru never saw himself as a people person. He found humans, in the broadest sense of the word, to be confusing. They were hardly direct, and to decipher their metamessages required too much energy in Haru’s opinion. If they weren’t that way, then they would be the opposite and would speak all that came across their minds. Those were the bold ones, the loud ones, and they scared Haruka the most. 

This was not to say that he despised people. Although Haru appreciated his space, even he enjoyed to be around select company and converse from time to time. He had a family to turn to at the worst of times and friends who would gladly come over if he called them. For some reason that Haru couldn’t understand, there was a fair number of people who approved of him and enjoyed being in his company. No, to find company wasn’t particularly a problem. He understood that he could be what they call a “charmer” if he cared enough to act according to social standards. Hell, he could be a social butterfly if he put his mind to it. He had numerous attributes in both looks and personality that could take him places, his parents had told him, if he used them wisely. 

The issue for Haru was that he didn’t care to socialize. He didn’t want to. He didn’t see the need to. Socializing was tiring, people were bothersome, and interacting with the outside was troubling. It was stressful. Haru felt that Makoto understood him in that sense. In fact, he knew he did, because Makoto shared that he sometimes felt the same way the first time they met. Haruka remembered the moment when Makoto described his need to be alone but not feel alone, and he remembered it clearly. The confession took him by surprise back then. He hadn’t expected a character like Makoto to also feel run down by the demands of life sometimes. At the end of the day, it only made Haruka feel more safe knowing that on the most basic level they understood the needs and personalities of each other. They went about in different ways, lived different ways, but at the end of day strived for the same things: the quietness of peace and a place of refuge. 

When Haruka looked over to Makoto, the other was already smiling at him. He inclined his head to the path ahead and walked forward. Haruka followed his lead and reached his side easily. Their steps fell into a matching pace. As they walked silently on the path, Haru vaguely recognized that it would lead them to a popular park known for the large pond where families liked to spend sunny days by. This late at night, though, there would be no people there to disturb the peace. There would be no sun to heat their skin, no children rolling down the grassy hills to bump into his legs, no parents yelling after them, and no visitors to splash around and disturb the water. It was exactly what Haru needed to calm down and settle his body. He hid a smile at the other’s plan. 

“You like the water, right?” Makoto asked, confirming Haruka’s thoughts. “I remember you saying you did that first night at the bar. I thought that visiting the park might make you feel better, though I’m sorry about what happened back there. I should have warned you before it got that far.” 

“It’s fine,” Haruka answered, and it really was. He did feel uncomfortable towards the end back there, that he couldn’t deny, but Makoto sensed it and fixed the issue, so it was okay. Haruka didn’t feel endangered, only anxious, but then he felt _cared for_ , because Makoto continued to turn the most unthinkable situations into something bearable.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and hid the lower half of his face from the cold October breeze. “You know them personally, then?” He wouldn’t have expected Makoto to have such rowdy company, honestly. Although Makoto seemed like the outgoing type, he also seemed too shy and tranquil of an individual to spend time with those kinds of guys regularly. 

Then again, Haruka knew hardly anything about the man beside him. Haruka’s eye twitched. Admitting that had ticked a tiny part of him off. He would need to remedy that fact as soon as possible. He wanted to know everything about Makoto, after all. All the good that made him Makoto, and all the bad too. 

“Mm,” Makoto nodded, interrupting Haru’s thoughts. “They’re from a Tokyo fire station. I volunteer there regularly alongside some of them. They’re great people, they really are. They can be a handful sometimes, but I consider them my second family. They’re strong, courageous, selfless, and all I could ever hope to be. We take care of each other through thick and thin. It’s a very beautiful thing. I’m lucky to have them in my life.”

“And the man you called before our escape?” Haru prompted, to which smiled Makoto at Haru endearingly. Haru’s ears tinged red, but if you were to ask him, he would blame it on the cold.

“Saito Gorou. He’s our chief,” Makoto explained. “I wouldn’t bother him under normal circumstances, but he’s an understanding man who loves his crew. Besides, even on his nights off, I think he’d rather they get home safely than not. I also don’t think he’d mind having a few drinks himself.” He chuckled at the last part, and Haruka simply smiled in his own way.

Comfortable silence followed the two as they continued walking down the moonlit sidewalk. Haruka found it curious at the lack of tension between them. With Nagisa, this level of quietness usually meant trouble, and with Rei there would be thick air from his panic over not knowing what to do when left alone to entertain Haruka. When silent, both parties would force Haruka to stay on his toes, so he found it funny that here- with a man named Tachibana Makoto, who he barely knew- he felt completely comfortable. He could dare to say that everything was okay. 

For the hundredth time he questioned the craziness of it all. He and a stranger, who against the odds met again, were now alone on virtually empty streets with their primal light source being the moon and passing windows. He should probably be concerned about the situation, he knew that, but Haruka was a smart man and knew how to keep safe. To be on guard, at least in the moment, he thought was unnecessary. He felt assured that with Makoto he could continue being foolish and move forward. 

When their feet stopped minutes later, they had arrived at the division between residential streets and open greenery. Haru stepped into the park first. The trees were not as alive as when he last saw them weeks ago. The thick bundles of green leaves were now few in numbers and overtaken by the orange and yellow brethren holding onto the bare branches. The thin carpet of dried leaves crunched beneath his weight as he walked straight to the water’s edge. 

In front of him was a scene colored in blues and blacks. On the other side of the still lake was the outline of city buildings. It was a Sunday night. Most of the dark windows miles away belonged to sleeping residents who turned off their lights for the night hours ago. Still, there were some windows alight, and Haru pondered not for the first time about the lives of those individuals, like if they were happy living such busy lives in the city. In almost an expression of disapproval, Haruka sniffed and flicked his gaze to the water. The pond was a deeper blue than the rest of the background. It was so wonderfully tranquil that the only sign of life was the moon’s highlighting of the water’s ripples. The increasing cold was ignored by Haru, for he could only care enough to tuck his chin further into his jacket’s collar and curl into himself the tiniest bit more. 

He was experiencing a beautiful sight that he wouldn’t have by his own accord. The acknowledgment prompted Haru to search out Makoto. For a moment Haruka was afraid that Makoto wouldn’t be there. A fear appeared that Makoto might have left Haru to his odd solitary musings, and once again their chance of reunion would slip away. He turned quickly. A slight panic clogged his throat when he couldn’t immediately lay eyes on him. “Mako—!”

“I’m right here, Haru-chan,” spoke up an amused Makoto. Haruka located him sitting on top of a picnic table a few yards behind him towards the left. Haruka sighed rather deeply in relief and obvious irritation.

“Drop the -chan, Makoto,” he glared. 

“Sure thing, Haru-chan.” The expression on Makoto’s face was so sweet that it neared devious. Haru rolled his eyes but nevertheless stepped away from the water’s edge and walked over to Makoto sitting on the wooden table. Makoto kept that adoring smile on until Haruka was settled next to him. Makoto redirected his vision to view the scenery in front of them. It was the same image painted into Haru’s eyes. That small fact made his heart swell. 

Makoto was enjoying the quiet and solitude. These last few minutes had been the best reprieve he had had in a while, and he knew that Haru’s presence accounted for a big chunk of its restorative effects. “The guys back there from the bar are good people,” Makoto shared. “When I was finally inaugurated as an official volunteer, it was unreal. I became part of something bigger, something important, and was surrounded by the grand ring of support that were my new partners in life. I was unbelievably happy. I thought, ‘Now I can help people. Now I can make a difference.’” 

“I’ve always wanted to help people, you see, and I’ve tried my best,” he admitted shyly, “but becoming a fireman made my dream of being useful to the greater good tangible. Those men are a part of my dream. They taught me and guided me. I’m indebted to them as a brother, and it’s a wonderful thing. To fight alongside them for the community is an indescribable honor.” 

Haruka eyed him. “And?” he prompted.

Makoto blinked at him in confusion. “And?” 

“That’s not all, right? You’re a volunteer fireman, but that’s only part time. You must do something else. What is it?” 

Makoto was taken aback by the accurate appraisal. “You’re right,” he spoke softly. “I’m a physical therapist full time. I majored in sports medicine with a concentration in the rehabilitation of professional athletes. I—”

“And you don’t think that’s important?” Haru quipped. He put in no effort to mask his tone. 

Makoto didn’t deserve the accusatory response, Haru knew that, but Haru was also annoyed with Makoto’s apparent habit of not giving himself enough credit. Someone had to knock some sense into him eventually. Haru was willing to take that responsibility. If time would allow him, Haru was ready to take on the role of getting Makoto’s self worth through his thick head. Nobody said that this encounter would last more than a night, after all. For all he knew, this could be a blissful dream blessed by a sympathetic but cruel god. The dream could end in an instant, and once again Haruka would be left feeling desolate.

Makoto looked at him with sad eyes after the charged remark. Haruka couldn’t help but feel at fault for the sight. Again he felt like an obtrusive boulder stuck among the flower beds of the world, their petals vibrant and pleasing to the eye whereas his stone finish was dull and depressing.

“I know it is,” Makoto answered back.

Haruka took note of the subdued voice. It killed him being the cause of the apprehension relayed. Why was he forcing someone to explain himself when Haruka despised being on the receiving end of the same treatment? “What a hypocrite,” his mind ridiculed. He needed to correct himself. He had to prove that he wasn’t that selfish of a person.

“It’s just that—”

“No, it’s okay, Makoto,” interrupted Haruka. “I spoke out of place. You don’t have to explain yourself, especially to a stranger like me.”

“You’re wrong,” Makoto protested. “I don’t mind sharing because it’s you, Haru. There’s no way I could expect you to trust me if I kept things locked up myself, right? I don’t mind explaining myself when I can. And in return, maybe you could consider doing the same for me. When you’re comfortable enough, I’d be ecstatic to learn more about you. I won’t force you to speak about anything, but as for me, don’t hesitate to ask anything. I don’t mind. Besides, I’d tell you if the question crossed some sort of line, if that makes you feel better. Does that sound like a deal, Haru?” 

A glimmer danced in Haruka’s eyes. “Yes, it does. Thank you, Makoto.”

Makoto, much to Haru’s relief, smiled his normal, beautiful smile in reply. “So…”

“So?”

“Are you still curious,” Makoto asked playfully, “about my reasoning?” 

Haruka smiled. In an effort to get comfortable, he hugged his knees against his chest, and then nodded in earnest. “Mm. Please, continue. I want to know more.”  

The corners of Makoto’s eyes crinkled. “Alright. Well, you see…” 

The time following was filled with discussions like how Makoto loved taking care of his siblings, and how his role of a caretaker ruled his life. He shared how the looks on the faces of the people he helped made him incomparably happy since he was a child, how his aiding of the community since earned him a respectable reputation, and how that led to a townsman suggesting that he look into helping out at one of Tokyo’s fire stations. He explained how he found his career in physical therapy with the help of parents and high school advisors, and later he recounted his favorite recovery stories of his bravest and most hard-working patients. He shared how grateful he was to encounter so many amazing souls in his field of work, one of who became a permanent friend, and how their smiles made the turmoil that was college worth it. 

Haruka hung onto every word and dissected every tone that came with them. His attention never strayed off the tales that was the basic outline of Makoto’s career story. Makoto, he learned, had a natural liking to people. He tended to avoid conflict and serve as peacemaker between the parties at odds. He disliked seeing people feeling down. It drove him to do his best to pick them up however possible. Basically, Haruka deciphered, Makoto lived for others. Haruka diagnosed that maybe Makoto had a hero complex and didn’t know it. He listed the pros and cons and wound up frowning internally at the negative feelings it could create in Makoto if he were to let someone down. Haru frowned at the lack of attention Makoto gives to his own emotional needs as a person too focused on maintaining the wellbeing of others. 

He learned next that Makoto still hung out with his twin siblings named Ren and Ran, and quite often, because he purposefully lived a close distance from his family in case they needed him. He liked to take his siblings places, attend to their needs, and offer any wisdom life might have given him whenever they run into trouble. It was one of Makoto’s favorite feeling when the twins would seek their older brother for a warm hug or a phone call to talk about their days and the mini dilemmas that went with them. He learned that Makoto takes great pride in the characters the twins grew up to be, and that he still worries about the decisions they might make in their present teenhood. He learned that Makoto loved his siblings, his family, and the townspeople that helped raise him. He learned that they were the reason he works hard, because he wants to make them proud. 

He learned silly things, too, like the man’s compulsion to consume any chocolate placed in front of him, his soft spot for cats, and his lack of cooking skills. He learned that Makoto would accept him and all his flaws because that was just the kind of guy Makoto was. He learned that Makoto was someone he could let in.

They talked on and on, consumed by the pattern of sharing and listening, sharing and listening, sharing and listening… The night sky swallowed the sounds of the harmonizing voices traveling through the darkness, and the stars flickered as if in celebration of the conversation taking place light-years below between two connected souls. 

Careless of the happenings outside of them, they went back and forth until their bodies betrayed them and grew too tired to go on. Yawns began to weave themselves between words, eyes began to droop close and be snapped back open only to droop some more. Their words continued to spill out, but the dialogue became progressively slower and softer until Makoto ended it with a smile that said it was okay to stop for the night. His expression said that they had all the time in the world to continue the conversation they were enjoying so much, and that was the sole reason Haruka acquiesced, because with that was the promise that they would indeed see each other again. Not everything had to be said tonight. Tomorrow was another day, and the day after that, and hopefully the day after that.

Haruka accepted the hand offered to him and was helped off the picnic table. They agreed for Makoto to walk him home. There they would exchange numbers so Makoto could text him when he arrived at his own place. Leisurely they walked in the cold, side by side, to Haruka’s residence. For the rest of their time together, Makoto hummed contently. Haruka listened to the alluring sounds, no protests given.

When they reached the apartment complex that housed Haru’s suite, Makoto noted the fair distance it was on foot from Akiyama-san’s. He smiled at the effort Haruka put into meeting tonight. To think that Haruka would walk such a distance with no assurance that Makoto would be there, and that he did so by his own drive, nearly caused a blushing Makoto. 

“Here we are,” Makoto announced, drowsy but still visibly happy. Haruka nodded and led them down the hall on the second floor to his door. They stood silently for a minute doing nothing mare than stare at the other. There was no awkwardness to pass between them, only warmth. Eventually Haruka closed his eyes prolongedly and gave a resigned sigh. 

He knew that when he stepped in his empty home there was a good chance this pleasant feeling would disappear. Once he entered, he’d have to prepare himself for real life again. He’d struggle for sleep, wake up tired in the morning, slave away at work at SabaRamba, and return to the same empty home afterwards. He much rather continue standing here with Makoto, words welcomed but not necessary, but that was ridiculous. 

He opened his eyes to look at Makoto properly and gave a tiny smile. “Thank you for tonight, Makoto. Thank you for everything.”

Makoto’s eyes softened in a dazed way. “Of course, Haru, and thank you, too. For coming to Akiyama-san’s, for finding me, for giving me this evening, thank you.”

“R-Right,” Haruka complied, looking to the side. He heard the sound of a device being flipped open, the pressing of phone keys, and then a phone was held in front of him. Haruka took the device gingerly before typing in the information onto the ‘new contact’ screen. When he finished and handed it back to Makoto he received a shining smile of gratitude. 

“I’ll be sure to send a message when I get home, Haru-chan.” 

“Mm…”

Makoto prepared to leave, and a small, noticeably somber smile showed on his face. “Have a good night then, Haru.”

Haruka dipped his head in an almost unnoticeable motion. “You too.”

Haruka watched Makoto’s back as the other carefully made his way down the hall. Makoto had progressed almost a yard away when a thought urged Haru to stop the retreating man. “He didn’t promise...” he thought anxiously. He had to make sure Makoto too wanted to spend time with him as much as he did. He had to find out if his way of thinking was reciprocated. 

“M-Makoto!”

The addressed person paused and looked back at Haruka confusingly. Haruka swore he saw a flicker of hope pass through those green eyes. He averted his own eyes to the side. With his hands on the doorframe for security, and with a reluctantly red cheeks, he asked, “You’ll call, right? We’ll see each other again... right?” 

Makoto smiled at the tentative prodding. “I’d love nothing more, Haru,” he replied easily. 

A mild smile graced Haru’s face. He gave a nod and slowly backed into his suite. “Okay. …Goodnight, Makoto.”

Makoto chuckled. “Yes! Goodnight, Haru.”

Haruka shut the door when Makoto’s silhouette had completely disappeared from his view. He sighed heavily and rested his tired head against the door. He took a moment to breath before preparing for bed. He walked to the bathroom, uncaringly discarded his clothes, and dipped into the warm water of his bath. He rested his head against the rim of the tub and let the happenings of the day pass through his mind. Experiencing tonight’s up’s and down’s in such a short timespan left Haru a tired soul in a beat up body. As he allowed himself the pleasure of soaking in the bath, he reserved a minute to send a prayer of thanks to whatever divine body was watching over him. Today was real, the man that walked beside him was real, and their promise was real. He closed his eyes and slipped in further to where the water rested right below his nose.  

“Let’s be foolish, Makoto,” he thought. “Let’s be crazy.”

\----__________-----__________-----__________---- 

 

The train ride home was quieter than usual. Then again, he couldn’t recall the last time he went home so late. It was nearly midnight. Makoto glanced at the three passengers near him. One was snoozing. Makoto longed to switch places with him. “Tired,” his mind complained.

His fingers turned the phone in his hands over repeatedly. Today Makoto proved to be the luckiest man in the world. The gods went above and beyond answering his prayers. Not only did he lay eyes on Haru again, but was recognized and wanted by the other. In the same way Makoto had been longing over the stranger, the stranger had been longing over him. He still felt guilty for the incident at the bar, but if the gods would have it, he’d have the chance to make it up to Haru soon enough.

As he continued to muse about their day, and the stories they shared, the words they spoke, the looks they gave, and the hidden messages they exchanged, Makoto concluded that it was rather unearthly the connection they made. The experience felt unreal in the best kind of way. When the train stopped minutes later, Makoto stretched and yawned, and filed out with others returning to Tokyo. 

The neighborhood was quiet as Makoto walked tiredly through the streets that would take him to his apartment complex. Leaves rustled from their branches and scooted across the concrete from the wind. When a violent shudder went through his large frame, Makoto wished he had brought more layers. His feet moved faster. 

After reaching the second floor Makoto unlocked his apartment door as gracefully as a clumsy man with shaking fingers could manage. As soon as the door opened Makoto was greeted by an unhappy hungry feline. He blinked at her boldness at first, and then laughed at the fit she was throwing at him. She continued to meow her heart out when he locked the door and swooped up the pouting cat in his arms. She glared at her forgetful owner while he stroked her fur with an apologetic smile and walked them to the kitchen. “Sorry, sorry. I had a busy day.” 

Asami didn’t meow to that, but she did squirm in protest, so Makoto chuckled and set her down before she hurt herself. The matured animal kept sharp eyes on her owner as he walked to the cabinet where her food was stored and pulled out a can of her favorite flavor. “Does this make up for it, Asami-chan?” When she broke into a loud jumble of mews and scurried over to circle his calves, Makoto knew all was forgiven. He opened the can, emptied its contents into her plastic bowl, and left her to feast. He leaned on the nearest wall, where he could keep a passive eye on Asami, and took out his phone. 

Slightly nervous that it wouldn’t be there, Makoto scrolled down to where ‘Nanase’ would be lifted. He smiled when he found Haru’s number. Quickly he composed the message “Made it home safe and sound!” and clicked send before his nerves could stop him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so intimidated by sending a text. As he left the room to undress, Makoto’s mind produced paranoid thoughts.

What if Haru didn’t reply? What if he never wanted to talk to him again? What if he only provided a number to be courteous? What if the number was false? How would Makoto know? What would he do? How long until he should send another message? Should he send one at all?  

With the phone in his right palm, Makoto fell onto his bed and closed his eyes. Was Haru asleep by now, or did not reply because something happened? Was Haru okay? Was he hurt? 

Makoto screwed his eyes closed tighter to block out the nonsense. He was being foolish. He just had to wait. Until a few minutes, until the morning, until whenever, all he could do was practice patience and wait.

He had nearly fallen asleep when the phone vibrated in his hand and emitted its ding sound. Nearly giving himself whiplash, Makoto shot up and opened his phone to read the message. Haru was okay, thank the gods. 

He had texted “Sorry for the late reply. I was in the bath. I’m glad you arrived safely.” 

Makoto replied instantly. “Thank you! I’m also glad that Haru is okay.” He wanted to continue their conversations from today, keep the interactions moving, and maybe make plans for future meetings, but his eyes were heavy and he knew that Haruka must feel the same drowsiness, of not worse after his episode at the bar. It would be selfish to keep the other up, especially on a Sunday night, and so somberly he typed the followup message of “Goodnight, Haru. I hope to see you soon.”

Makoto rolled over and stared at the wall with eyes half-lidded. The other’s reply took a minute, but when it did come, it read “I also would like that… Goodnight.” He could practically see the adorably embarrassed face on Haru’s face as he typed out the message. The image brought nothing but warm and fuzzy feelings. It was the perfect feeling to fall asleep to.

He wasn’t sure when they’d see each other again or how it would go from here. He had no clue how things would work out. But his dreams that night encouraged his foolish and possibly crazy premonition that it would turn out to be something beautiful for both of them. There was no reason to worry, his dream promised. They were only to be foolish, keep faith, and leap forward, together.


End file.
